


Auld Lang Syne

by Sarahtoo



Category: Miss Fisher's Murder Mysteries
Genre: F/M, Tumblr Prompt, happy new year
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-31
Updated: 2017-12-31
Packaged: 2019-02-25 20:30:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,057
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13220655
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sarahtoo/pseuds/Sarahtoo
Summary: At a New Year's Eve party, Jack watches Phryne flirt her way around the room. (Based onthis Tumblr post, which immediately brought these two darling idiots to mind.)Happy New Year, fandom!





	Auld Lang Syne

Jack watched Phryne from across the room, lifting his whiskey to his lips. He probably should slow down on the alcohol—he could feel it making his head fuzzy—but what the hell, it was New Year’s Eve, after all. If he couldn’t get drunk on New Year’s Eve, when could he? 

Phryne was holding court on a long sofa beside the fireplace, handsome men flanking her on either side. She glittered, soaking up the attention, the same way she had for as long as he’d known her, and his heart squeezed almost painfully as love rushed through him. Her gown was a deep, rich red—his favorite color on her—and her lipstick matched; ruby drops dangled from her ears and a matching necklace dipped into the vee of her neckline. As she spoke, she waved a hand, making the rings on her fingers glint in the light, their sparkle lending her an otherworldliness. Or maybe that was just the whiskey.

Jack knocked the last of his drink back and crossed to the bar to pour himself another. Perhaps it was time to show her what he had to offer. 

Sidling over to where she sat with her two beaus, Jack arranged himself in her line of sight. She smiled at him, cocking one eyebrow, and he lifted his whiskey glass to her; returning the gesture, she held his gaze as they both drank.

“You know, Miss Fisher,” he said, his voice low enough that she had to lean forward to hear him. “I was talking to Collins this morning.” 

“Oh really? How is Hugh? Dot is well, I hope?” Her attention was fixed firmly on him now, with the mention of her dear friend’s husband.

“They’re both just fine, and the children as well.” Jack nodded quietly, his mouth tilting slightly at the corners. “But Hugh was asking for my advice on a case.”

Phryne’s eyes widened, their bright blue sparkling at the idea of a mystery to solve, just as he’d known they would.

“Reggie,” she said, turning to the man on her right, “would you be a darling and get me another drink?” Her smile was warm as she held her whiskey glass out to the man.

“Of course,” the man said, his voice jovial. Jack stifled a laugh. Her ability to wrap a man around her little finger was impressive. Reggie took her whiskey glass and rose, moving toward the bar.

“And David,” she turned to the man on her other side, “I’m so sorry, but I’m feeling a bit of a chill. Would you be so kind as to ask Mr. Butler to fetch my wrap?”

“Happy to,” the hapless David said, his smile foolish as he rose from the couch. 

As soon as the second man had moved away, Jack moved over to sit beside her on the couch. He wanted to wrap an arm around her shoulder, but he knew that wasn’t the way to lure her—no, he needed to engage her mind.

“Now, Jack, tell me everything.” Phryne turned toward him and placed a hand on his knee. Jack set his arm across the back of the sofa without touching her.

“Well, Collins said that there’s been a series of murders,” he began. By the time Reggie and David came back with her drink and wrap, respectively, Phryne had slid closer, tucking herself under his arm, her body warm against his side. She thanked each of the other men prettily, but returned her attention almost immediately to Jack. 

He caught their eyes as each of them realized that he’d lost his chance with the vibrant Miss Fisher; Jack kept his face impassive, but he was filled with a sense of triumph. She’d chosen him. Reggie acknowledged Jack’s victory with a terse nod before moving away to strike up a conversation with one of Phryne’s society friends, who welcomed him warmly. David’s shoulders slumped as he noted the placement of Phryne’s hand on Jack’s thigh and the curve of her body into his. Blinking swiftly, he moved away toward the bar. Jack could almost feel sorry for him.

“That was smoothly done, Jack Robinson.” 

Jack tilted his head to meet her eyes, and he raised his eyebrows. “I’m not sure what you mean, Miss Fisher. I only wanted to fill you in on—”

“What rot!” She was laughing as she said it, and her hand came up to toy with his tie. “You knew that I’d leap at the possibility of discussing a case, and you used that to your advantage.” 

“Caught,” he admitted, his arm sliding down from the back of the couch to pull her closer. “I wanted the attention of the most beautiful woman in the room.”

“You would have had it momentarily anyway, Jack,” she purred. “There’s no one I’d rather kiss when it’s time to welcome the new year.”

“It pays to be thorough, Miss Fisher,” he replied, and when her laughter rang out again, he couldn’t help the widening of his own smile.

“It’s countdown time, everyone!” One of the guests held up an old-fashioned pocket watch, trying to gain the room’s attention.

“Count down, then, Bert!” Phryne called without turning away from Jack. 

He held her eyes as the countdown began, the whole room joining in. “Ten! Nine! Eight!”

“It’s remarkable how much I still want you, Jack Robinson,” Phryne murmured.

“Six! Five! Four!”

“I’m so proud of it, I remark on it every day,” he said, his tone dry.

“Three! Two! One! Happy new year!”

“Welcome to the new decade, Jack, darling,” Phryne said, lifting her face to his.

“May 1960 treat us as gently as 1959 did,” he acknowledged, before leaning in to press his lips to hers as the room erupted in cheers and all of their friends found someone to kiss. He felt Phryne’s hand wrap around his lapel, and he opened his mouth to slide his tongue between her lips. 

For thirty eventful years, he’d been fortunate enough to kiss this woman at the stroke of midnight as one year became another, setting their luck in motion once again. Now if he could just convince her that midnight was late enough for their old bones, maybe he could coax her into a few more—and more intimate—kisses up in their bedroom. For luck, of course.


End file.
